


Canons & Fugues

by airspaniel



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: Amnesia, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-06-22
Updated: 2007-06-22
Packaged: 2017-10-21 09:03:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/223447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/airspaniel/pseuds/airspaniel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyday life, and the spaces inbetween.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Canons & Fugues

**Author's Note:**

> Because I love Sandra Bennet, and because she reminds me of my own mother. Not just because she's a blonde woman named Sandra. ^_^ Terms of endearment and Cindy the groomer are products of my own imagination. The Clip-N-Dip is an actual business, but I have nothing to do with them. I own nothing related to _Heroes_ and wouldn't know what to do with it if I did.

Tuesday was lasagna night. Always had been. Even before the kids, Noah never could get enough of her lasagna. It was his absolute favorite.

Sandra smiled, and sliced up some yellow squash. That was the secret: the squash. It had a nice, firm texture, and kept things from getting too starchy. You didn’t have to use as much pasta or ground beef with squash in the mix. Plus, it was just about the only way to get Lyle to eat his vegetables. She layered the slices on top of the casserole dish, covering it with a liberal sprinkling of shredded cheese. Cheddar _and_ mozzarella.

Mr. Muggles snuffled at her feet, lapping up the stray pieces that fell on the floor. As she bent over to put the lasagna in the oven, she scooped him up under her arm.

“No, Mr. Muggles,” she admonished, tapping his little puppy nose. “No people food for you!” She stroked his long fur affectionately before setting him off to scamper across the hardwood. Turning her attention back to the cutting board, she picked up the chef’s knife and started to rinse it off.

 _There was running water, and blood spiraling down the drain. She didn’t know whose blood, or where it came from. Her eyes followed the swirl, transfixed. She didn’t know where she was, who she was… She was holding something. It was a knife. She dropped it, panicked. Had she done something? Who was bleeding?_

The smell of smoke filled the kitchen. She shut the tap off with the back of her wrist and reached for a towel. “Now, Sandra! Dammit to hell,” she chided herself under her breath, wrapping the towel around her hand to keep from burning herself on the hot dish as she pulled it from the oven. “Can’t even pay attention for five minutes!” The lasagna was ruined; burnt to a crisp. And there wouldn’t be enough time to make another one before dinner. She sighed heavily, blowing an errant strand of hair from her forehead. Unwinding the hand towel, she walked to the message pad by the phone. Looked like pizza would have to do for tonight.

The towel came away from her hand, a small smear of blood marring the green and white stripes. “Oh, dammit, Sandy…” she muttered. She didn’t remember cutting herself, but she must have done it when she was rinsing the vegetable knife. With the back of her injured hand she opened the cabinet over the fridge and took out a band aid. She washed her hands with soap and bandaged the cut as Mr. Muggles yipped at her heels. She picked him up with her good hand and nuzzled the top of his head.

“Don’t you worry about Mommy, Mr. Muggles. She’s just a little bit clumsy today, yes she is.” She petted him absently and reached for the phone. At least Noah was away on another business trip. Some paper conference in New York.

He would have been so disappointed that she let the lasagna burn.

\-----

Cindy at the Clip-N-Dip was such a busybody. It was none of her business where Noah was or what he got up to, and Sandra was starting to get annoyed. Mr. Muggles shivered on the table between them, as Mrs. Bennet held him still and Cindy painted his newly-trimmed nails a bright coral shade.

“I’m only saying, Sandy.” The woman said, laying a top coat on the front paws, “Isn’t it odd that he’s always away for work? I mean, he’s a paper salesman, for goodness sake! How much travel can that take?”

Sandra bristled and tried not to pull away. “Well, Cindy, he is the top salesman in the tri-state area, and I can’t even imagine how much work he has to do to keep that title.”

“But how many nights does he come home late, or not at all? On a paper emergency?” Cindy laughed. “And how many paper conferences can there even be in this country? Come on, darlin’, there’s something he’s not telling you.”

Sandra waited for Mr. Muggles's paws to set a bit before gathering the small dog to her chest. She reached in her purse, angrily digging out the cash to pay for the grooming. “I trust him, Cindy, and that’s it. He can go wherever he wants and say he’s doing anything and I’ll believe him, because by god he’s my husband and I love him. And he’s never lied to me before and he’s never failed to call me when he’s more than five minutes late, so maybe you should keep your accusations for someone else.” She put the small harness on Mr. Muggles, and slid the bills across the table, hugging her dog tightly.

Cindy frowned. “I’m sorry, hon, I didn’t mean to make you upset. I guess I should be more careful about what I say.” She folded the money and put it in her apron. “I didn’t mean to get you mad.”

Sandra blinked a couple of times and set Mr. Muggles down. “Now, what in the world are you talking about?” The little dog jumped up against her leg, and she leaned down to scratch behind the bright red bow on his head. “Who’s the handsomest boy ever, huh?” She let him lead her to the door, manicured toenails clicking softly against the linoleum. Smiling brightly, she called over her shoulder.

“Thank you so much, sweetie! Great job, as always. We’ll see you again next week!”

\-----

 _She woke up in a strange bed in a strange room. She gasped sharply, eyes snapping open, body paralyzed with fear. There was a weight in the bed next to her. A man. His face was turned to hers, lips slightly parted in sleep, eyes twitching under heavy lids. One arm was thrown lazily over his head, fist resting against the headboard. His chest was bare, and her eyes scanned warily down his torso, resting at the waistband of his dark plaid shorts. He was very attractive, and he looked strong._

 _She was terrified. Her hands ran over her own body, confirming that her cotton tank top and flannel pants were still in place. And she didn’t feel hurt in any way. Not physically, at least._

 _Shifting her weight carefully, she eased out of the bed and crept across the room. There was a door to her left, and she hoped it was a way out as she edged it open silently and slipped behind it. Her hand met cold ceramic and she nearly started crying. It was a bathroom. She was trapped in here, one thin door separating her from a man she didn’t know. She gripped the sink tightly, closing her eyes and deliberately opening them, again and again, trying to will the world into some kind of focus. Some kind of sense. She felt dizzy and nauseated. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recognize that strange man’s face. As she met her own gaze in the mirror, she realized that she couldn’t recognize her own face, either._

Sandra Bennet blinked and relaxed her grip on the sink. When did she come in the bathroom? She laughed softly to herself and brushed her wild blond hair back. She must’ve been sleepwalking again. The door shut behind her with a soft click as she walked back to the bed. As soon as she had settled back down, a strong arm fell across her waist, pulling her in close. She sighed happily, and wrapped her arm over her husband’s, tangling their fingers together.

“Everything okay, honey?” he mumbled, voice a sleepy mumble against her neck.

She took his hand in hers and brought it to her lips, kissing it softly.

“Everything’s fine, lover. Go back to sleep.”

\-----

“Sandy, I’m really sorry,” Mr. Bennet said, kissing his wife gently. “It’s just a few nights. I’ll be back by Tuesday.”

She frowned, but leaned into the touch anyway. “You promise?”

He smiled, and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Scout’s honor, Jellybean.” She was trying so hard to be mad at him, but her hands found their way to his glasses and pushed them back on his head. Her knight in shining horn-rims. He chuckled in that soft, maddening way he had and drew her face up for a kiss. Her stomach still flipped, full of butterflies, just the same as it had back in high school. She kissed him back lovingly.

“Ew! Oh my god, guys, get a room!” Lyle slammed his backpack down on the breakfast table, breaking their reverie. Claire came into the room right on his heels, smacking him lightly on the back of the head.

Noah didn’t miss a beat, hands winding tighter around his wife’s back. “Lyle, be nice; Claire, don’t hit your brother.”

Their daughter opened her mouth indignantly. “Excuse me! I was trying to defend you two.” She pouted, sitting heavily and pouring herself a glass of juice. “It’s not like I was the one making out in the kitchen.”

“Claire!” Sandra swatted at her daughter playfully with the kitchen towel. Her husband laughed, planting one last peck on her cheek.

“I have to get going, Sandy.” He picked up his briefcase and walked down the hall. She followed him to the door, pressing her hands against his back, his shoulders, wanting to savor every last minute of contact she had with him until his return. He turned to face her, one hand on the doorknob, and kissed her again, deeply.

“Tuesday, Jellybean. I’ll be here.”

She beamed up at him, still amazed at how much she loved this man. “I’ll have the lasagna ready.”

\-----

 _There was a gun under his jacket, she was sure of it. This man had a gun, and she had to be calm. If she wasn’t calm, he might turn it on her. So she smiled, and laughed, and pretended like nothing was wrong as he hugged her. She could feel the cold black metal against her skin, between two layers of clothing._

 _“What’s wrong, Sandy?” the man asked, eyes narrowing in a mockery of concern. He was very perceptive. She schooled her features into a mask of neutrality._

 _“What’s the gun for?” she asked, as evenly as she could. He held his hands up, disarmingly, but she wasn’t deterred. “The gun in your belt. What is it for?”_

 _His expression turned sad, and she almost felt bad for a second, under her fear. “Oh, Jellybean… I wish you hadn’t noticed that.” She twisted her face up at the endearment, feeling disgusted to have this… stranger treat her so casually._

 _Panic won out and she held her breath tightly. “I just don’t want you to hurt me.”_

 _His breath rushed out in a loud sigh, thumb moving rapidly over the keypad on his cellphone. “Sandra, I would never…” he kept his hands up, visible, as he spoke to the man on the line. “Yes. Yes, it is. The same.” With those few cryptic words, he hung up and set the phone deliberately on the end table. He smiled weakly at her, eyes watering behind horn-rimmed glasses. She flicked her eyes to his hip, where the weapon she knew he had rested. He reached out towards her and she flinched back, hands shielding her face. She backed into the corner, eyes wide and desperate. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door crack open, and a tall dark man came to stand beside the armed stranger._

 _“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” the man behind the glasses said. “I can fix it.” The dark man came closer, hands reaching for her. She was terrified, but found she couldn’t move. His strong hands encircled her face, and an odd euphoria washed over her._

 _“I’ll fix it, Sandy,” her husband said. “I always do.”_

\----

Sandra Bennet sat in the overstuffed armchair in her living room, Mr. Muggles sleeping draped over her leg. She stared into space, one hand absently cradling a glass of white wine on the armrest. Her husband had been gone for three days, off again on business. This time it was the International Paper Exposition and Trade Show in Ontario. He had called her once, briefly, and had sounded out of breath as he explained why he would be gone another three days. She nodded supportively, even though he couldn’t see the gesture through the phone, and promised to cook his favorite the night he got back. Even though it would be, what, a Friday? Oh well… She supposed a little variety never hurt anyone. He called her Sandy, his jellybean, and kissed the receiver, just like he always did.

He said, “I love you, forever.”

She hung up the phone with trembling fingers and took a deep drink of her wine. The dog at her side stirred restlessly, and she soothed him back to sleep with long strokes of his fur. She drained the glass, trying to imagine the face of the woman her husband must be leaving her for.

Her head hurt so badly.  



End file.
